So, I’ve been reading. A lot. It’s been a wonderful therapy and pastime, a welcome return to the English language and a mental stimulator during times when I’ve been too exhausted to leave my room.When I first arrived in Huánuco, I realized that books were one thing I didn’t bring enough of. I soon found myself fidgety after work and during Sunday evenings when, back at home, I would’ve curled up on the couch with a good book.
Fortunately, a previous volunteer had left one English book behind, a novel by one of my favorite authors, Isabel Allende. I’ve never been so overjoyed to run my fingers through worn pages and fold down their corners to remember a favorite quote. I felt like someone had left me a secret key or a personal note addressed just to me
Isabel Allende is significant to me in many ways. Her novel House of the Spirits, was the only book I brought with me when I worked in Mexico one summer during college. She writes beautifully about Latin America, and while in Mexico, she gave me a more rich understanding of the new culture I found myself in.
To have encountered her again in Peru, in the country where she was born, seemed to ground me, as if re-connecting with an old friend, officially welcoming me back to Latin America.
Her narrative Eva Luna got me through my first month here, when I found myself needing to just lay in bed during much of my free time, resting my brain and recuperating my energy for each new day.
Having finished her story, it would be two more months until I would be in Lima again, where I could borrow a book from our volunteer supervisor. During that time I turned to the one English book remaining, the book that has always been on a nearby shelf but one that I have barely touched… the Bible.
I continue to be intimidated by the Bible and all that it contains - all the events and opinions that surround its pages, the misunderstanding and misuse of ancient verses. In the past, I respected the Bible from a distance and instead preferred to learn about its contents through others’ more accessible paraphrasing.
However, I now found myself with nothing to read and I did bring the Bible here for a reason… to read it!
So, sometime in October I opened up the first page of the New Testament and began reading - simply reading. I didn’t pressure myself to know what was being said in between the lines or to fully comprehend the historical context in which it was written. I took each page as it came, allowing myself to react and ponder freely and to write in the margins.
I’m marking up my once pristine clean Bible and I’m finally getting to know its contents. I continue to work through the New Testament, taking it bit by bit, but sometimes I just need a break.
At which point came two more Allende novels. After our Thanksgiving retreat in Lima I brought back Inés of My Soul, a romantic and politically charged story about the wife of one of the first Spanish conquistadors in Peru. I was fully entrenched in the narrative, which described Incan society and the indigenous spirituality that I hoped to encounter on our trip to Cusco after Christmas.
Once in Cusco, among other imperatives like visiting Maccu Piccu and the Sacred Valley, I knew I had to find a bookstore. During our last afternoon, I came upon a nicely stocked shop just beyond the Plaza de San Francisco called Libreria Jerusalen (The Jerusalem Bookstore). The owner was a quintessential literary man, with overgrown wispy hair and thick-rimmed glasses sitting low on his nose. “Do you have anything by Isabel Allende?” I asked hopefully.
He directed me to a shelf featuring her novels. I pulled one out called Zorro, curious whether it had any connection to the films, but more so because of the blurry cover image of a flamenco dancer in a flowing red dress.
At the checkout counter, a friendly customer said, “That’s a good one you’ve got there.” The conversation became quite intriguing when we discussed Allende’s connection to the first democratically elected president of Chile, Salvador Allende, who was assassinated by a military coup in 1973 (the other September 11th). Isabel Allende was his niece and the customer shared that he had been in Santiago during the time of the coup.
After my interesting encounter in the bookstore, I guarded the book more than any of the other gifts and souvenirs I purchased during our travels.
I have since found an international bookstore right here in Huánuco, making me feel that I’ve been on a completely unnecessary wild goose chase for literature. However, in feeling desperate for a book, I now have a palpable appreciation for access to the written word. And when I return to the States, one of my first destinations will be to walk up and down the aisles of the local library, with deep gratitude that someone actually taught me to read.
